


Toothbrush

by Popcorn_Lover



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 14:39:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7938400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Popcorn_Lover/pseuds/Popcorn_Lover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all started from a toothbrush.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Toothbrush

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing of Sherlock BBC and the song 'Toothbrush' by DNCE.

_Maybe you don't have to rush_

_You could leave a toothbrush_

_At my place_

_At my place_

_We don't need to keep it hush_

_You could leave a toothbrush_

_At my place_

_At my place_  

 

Mycroft Holmes declared himself to be in heaven. Ignoring the thin layer of sweat covered on their bodies from the intense love making session, he spooned the petite pathologist and exhaled with an air of satisfaction. Mycroft sleepily kissed Molly’s smooth shoulder and soon fell into a deep slumber. The British Government sleeps like a proverbial baby only when she is around.

The pathologist was packing her night clothes and toothbrush when Mycroft spoke in a cautious tone, “If you want, Molly, you can leave your toothbrush here. It would save the hassle of bringing it back and forth. I assume you have a spare one back at your flat?”

Molly chewed her lower lip nervously, sincerely hoping that she is not misreading the signs. Once you leave one item in your, for the lack of a better word, companion’s house, like it or not, more items would be conveniently left behind and before you realize, you are practically living with him. Mycroft must have considered the implications of his words right?

Like trending on a frozen lake, the pathologist replied carefully, “That is, if you don’t mind?” Mycroft laughed softly and the slightly apprehensive atmosphere was immediately lifted. “If I do mind, I would never suggest it to you, Molly.” She smiled shyly, “Alright then.” The British Government placed his hand on her small back, “Ready? I will send you to St. Bart’s.”

Initially, Molly was worried about the possibility of being seen by others for Mycroft naturally would want for their relationship to be kept under wraps, but seeing that every time she stayed for the night, the next morning he would insist to drop Molly off at her workplace first, the pathologist began to believe that maybe their relationship isn’t and don’t have to be so secretive after all. That made Molly, against her own wishes, feels strangely optimistic.

 

_Stuck in a limbo_

_Half hypnotized_

_Each time I let you stay the night, stay the night_

_Up in the morning_

_Tangled in sheets_

_We play the moment on repeat, on repeat_

 

It started after Sherlock’s ‘death’ and soon they would meet up regularly during her lunch time or tea breaks depending on Mycroft’s schedule of course then somehow it progressed to dinners and even weekend trips to all corners of England. The British Government always stood on the side that is closer to the traffic and Molly would blush at his gentleman behaviour. He is nothing like the men that she had met in the past.

During one of their after-dinner walks, the pathologist had forgotten to bring her gloves and tried to discreetly plant her cold hands into the pockets of her jacket. If Sherlock is observant then Mycroft is the definition of observant. Surprised, Molly turned to her left when she sensed a firm hand on her shoulder. They stopped walking and the pathologist subconsciously held her breath.

After gently pulling out both of her hands, the British Government removed his right glove and put it on her right hand. “It’s probably too loose so you would still have to place your hand back into the pocket but at least it would be far warmer with the additional layer.” Molly’s right hand felt warmer already but the pathologist frowned at his now ungloved right hand.

Mycroft then held her left hand tightly, sharing his warmth with the pathologist. “We shall have to make do with this arrangement, Molly, unless you would wish to cut short this walk instead?” The British Government looked straight ahead, not meeting her eyes. “If that is alright with you, I would like to continue our walk, Mycroft.” He nodded his head with approval and resumed their walk. Molly swore she heard a sigh of relief.

It was Sunday night but neither was eager to go out so they decided to stay at her flat and watch a marathon of Doctor Who. Mycroft noticed that the pathologist was nodding off and without thinking; the British Government guided her head towards his shoulder. On reflex, Molly snuggled up to him. The room was silent save for her even breathing. Gingerly, he settled into a more comfortable position and acting on a passing thought, kissed Molly’s hairline.

The pathologist then opened her blurry eyes and leaned in, meeting Mycroft's lips with her own. Molly did not know what actually led them to this but she was sure that both of them were not drunk, at most they were mildly intoxicated so booze in their systems would not explain why they are kissing the inch out of each other but oh, it feels so right and that’s what truly matters.

 

_When you're standing there in your underwear_

_And my t-shirt from the night before_

_With your messed up hair_

_And your feet still bare_

_Would you mind closing the bedroom door?_

 

“Oh! Mycroft, y-you are up!” The pathologist attempted to take off his jacket but stopped herself when Molly remembered that underneath the suit jacket, she is naked aside from her knickers. “I’m sorry. I always wanted to know how it’s like wearing your suit jacket.” The British Government raised his eyebrow. “Naked?” Molly gave a slight nod. “Kinky...and oddly flattering to one’s ego.”

Mycroft enjoyed the sensual sight before him and felt his ‘emotions’ stirred back to life again. Molly was wearing nothing but his jacket, enhanced by her messy hair and bare feet. “Before you come back to bed, would you mind closing the door so we could pick up where we left off from last night?”

 

_I just, I just can't let you go_

_Give me something I_ _'ve never known_

_So maybe you don't have to rush_

_You could leave a toothbrush_

_At my place_

_At my place_  

 

“It would seem that much has changed after my return, brother mine. A lady friend, perhaps? Or shall I say, a goldfish?” Mycroft clenched his jaw and Sherlock smirked at the results of his provocation. It was only a warm up. The British Government knew the day would come when his baby brother would eventually notice the signs. In his eyes, Sherlock may be slow but not _that_ slow. Regardless, he still continued this relationship with Molly. Mycroft couldn’t, wouldn’t end it. It was safe to say that he never felt like this before.

“Did she do it for the money? Power? The thrill of it? Or does she have daddy issues? Or did you have to threaten-” There were many a times when Mycroft thought he would gladly strangle the daylights out of Sherlock however the British Government did not put that pleasant idea into motion until today. Mycroft let go of the consulting detective when he saw his brother’s face turned red.

The British Government ran his hand through his hair to compose himself while Sherlock coughed and calmly rubbed his throat. “And Molly thought you do not care for her. She has for a long time been rather unsuccessful in her relationships and it would be wrong to say that I did not contribute to her insecurities. I know I am the last person in this world to have any right to say this but I implore you to not hurt her, ever.”

“Or what, Sherlock? Empty threats are so passé, brother mine.” Mycroft rolled his eyes, hiding the raging storm in them.

“Or you would be like me, losing Molly for good.” The consulting detective’s silent admission rang loudly across the room.

“I promise you, Sherlock, I would not be like you.” And Mycroft meant every word of it.

 

_No need to question next time we meet_

_I know you're coming home with me, home with me_

_Sweat like a sauna_

_Break out the ice_

_I know you're gonna stay the night, stay the night_

 

It’s official. The British Government finally realized that he has fallen in love with Molly Hooper, deep and hard. Mycroft was watching Molly watching the telly when it suddenly hit him. He loves her. The revelation shook Mycroft’s core and he began to panic internally. The pathologist yawned delicately and stood up. “I’m exhausted. Today the morgue was so busy; I was literally buried in corpses. Join me in bed, Mycroft?”

Just like that, Molly’s words quelled his fears threatening to overwhelm him. It took them some time but they are on the right track now. Baby steps, they shall take.

 

_Cause I don't want this to end_

_And there's no need to play pretend_

_If you stay with me again_

_Would you mind closing the bedroom door?_

 

When does one propose to one’s partner? Mycroft believes that every couple moves at varying pace but the British Government also believes that it is time for him to ask Molly the Question. The pathologist moved into his house two years ago and Mummy has been dropping not-so-subtle hints of her desire for grandchildren as soon as possible which is merely a more delicate choice of words in replacement of ‘just bloody ask Molly to marry you already, Mykie!”

With the ring box in his hand, the British Government anxiously made his way towards his future wife. Who would have thought it all started from a toothbrush?

 

**Author's Note:**

> I really should get back to my assignments but I heard Mollcroft calling my name with this song (lol)! Hope this is fluffy enough for you readers, please enjoy!


End file.
